Chapter 10: Unwavering Determination.

Adi, his heart pounding in his chest, sprinted towards the headquarters, his mind a whirlwind of fear and determination. He had to get there, to warn them, to protect them.

Meanwhile, at the headquarters, the red-clothed men stormed through the front doors of the inn. Geoffrey, his senses sharp, felt the ominous shift in the atmosphere. He tapped the desk, a silent signal of emergency. Celine, her eyes wide with alarm, understood. She grabbed Ella, her daughter, and rushed towards the kitchen, disappearing into the secret passageway.

The Blenders, their instincts honed by years of training, reacted instantly. Hidden weapons, concealed within the inn's décor, materialized, ready for action.

A large man, his face twisted with a cruel smile, entered the inn, his hand gripping a massive sword. Geoffrey, his movements swift and deadly, struck a knife into the man's throat, a silent, efficient kill.

The Niziari, their faces grim, raced towards the headquarters, their hearts heavy with dread.

"Will everyone be alright at the headquarters?" Morales asked Nita, his voice laced with concern.

"We hope," Nita replied, her voice strained. "These cult members aren't that good at fighting, but they are numerous."

"How do you know?" Morales asked, his brow furrowed.

"Their tracks," Nita explained. "The people we fought were only ten, but the tracks we found indicate maybe forty or fifty men. But I know Geoffrey can hold them off. Before he became a Blender, he was an Executioner, one of the best. He stopped because of his family. But what's more concerning is the person Niziari sent us. He's a newbie, but the Elders said he managed to defeat all the Masters in Niziari training. Maybe we have a monster on our side."

Adi, his breath ragged, reached the inn, his eyes scanning the scene. Red-clothed men swarmed the front, their faces masked, their weapons gleaming. He pulled out a firecracker, his hand steady, his aim precise. He threw it, the firecracker arcing through the air, landing amidst the enemy ranks. The explosion, a burst of light and sound, drew their attention.

Adi, his movements swift and deadly, darted behind the enemy lines, his dagger flashing in the dim light. He stabbed, he slashed, he moved with a grace and precision that belied his youth. He used his throwing knives, each one a silent projectile, finding its mark with deadly accuracy.

More red-clothed men appeared, their numbers overwhelming. Adi, his dagger the only weapon left, his mind clear, his senses heightened, pulled out a smoke bomb. He threw it, the smoke billowing, obscuring the battlefield. He used the confusion to his advantage, his movements a blur of motion. He grabbed a fallen sword, its hilt slick with blood, and threw it, the blade finding its mark, piercing the heart of an enemy.

The smoke cleared, revealing a scene of carnage. Red-clothed men lay scattered, their bodies still, their eyes wide with disbelief. Adi, his breath ragged, stood alone, his dagger dripping with blood, his face a mask of grim determination. He had fought like a demon, a whirlwind of death, a force of nature. He had survived. He had protected the headquarters. He had earned his place in the society.

He was Adi, the Executioner, and he was ready for whatever came next.

Adi pushed through the inn's doors, the air thick with the scent of blood and smoke. Twelve red-clothed men stood in the entryway, their faces masked, their weapons gleaming. Three Blenders, their faces etched with concern, fought back, their movements fluid and precise. Geoffrey, his arm bandaged, his face pale, held his ground, his eyes filled with determination.

The cult members, their numbers overwhelming, surged towards Adi. He braced himself, his body tense, his senses on high alert. He grabbed a sturdy chair, its legs a weapon, its seat a shield. He moved with a ferocity born of desperation, his dagger flashing, his body a whirlwind of motion. He slammed the chair into the enemy ranks, knocking them back, his dagger deflecting blows, his movements a deadly dance.

The Blenders, watching in awe, saw the ferocity in Adi's eyes, the raw power that flowed through his veins. They had heard rumors of his training, of his abilities, but they had never witnessed them firsthand.

One by one, the cult members fell, their bodies crumpled on the floor, their attacks thwarted by Adi's relentless assault. He moved with a speed and agility that seemed impossible, his movements a blur of motion. He was a whirlwind of destruction, a force of nature unleashed.

The Blenders, their faces etched with disbelief, watched as Adi, covered in the blood of his enemies, stood triumphant. They had never seen a warrior like him, a warrior who fought with such ferocity, such precision, such unwavering determination.

Geoffrey, his wound throbbing, his eyes filled with admiration, approached Adi. "You saved us," he said, his voice hoarse with emotion.

Adi, his breath ragged, his body aching, nodded. He had done what he had to do. He had protected the headquarters, his comrades, his home. He had proven himself, not just to the Blenders, but to himself.

He was Adi, the Executioner, and he was ready for whatever came next.